Little Book
by SheildMaidensAtTheBarricade
Summary: One morning Éponine Thénardier found an empty book laying in the streets of Paris. Instead of selling it she decided to keep it and record the story of the June Rebellion and the people behind it through her own eyes. Éponine's journal is now on public display in the Musée de la Révolution. Sensitive readers should be aware Éponine's life was hard and she did suffer abuse.
1. Chapter 1

_Editors Note:_

_Éponine's Journal was found among the Fauchelevent family heirlooms in 1996. The Fauchelevent family kindly donated the book to the Musée de la Révolution where it sat in storage with the rest of the June Rebellion memorabilia until two years ago when it was included in a new exhibit featuring the many rebellions of Paris._

_It wasn't until the exhibit closed that a member of the museum staff opened the journal and discovered what a gem it was. Known affectionately as Little Book to Éponine, many important events in her life spanning from the time in 1831 all the way until even after the June Rebellion were recorded here._

_Éponine was a gamine and a literate gamine was a very rare thing in the early 1800s. Éponine's journal provides an important insight into the life of the lower class. Perhaps the most amazing thing about the journal is that Éponine is not the only narrator. Throughout the book are entries made by people who knew Éponine and came to be in possession of her journal._

_There is no disputing the historical importance of Éponine's journal but this book is more than a historical document. Recorded here is the life of Éponine Thénardier. A dear friend of Éponine sums up her life quite perfectly, I believe, when he says "Her life was cold and dark yet she was unafraid"_

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

I found this strange little book laying in the street three days ago. To my surprise, when I opened the book it contained nothing but blank pages.

I questioned my dear friend Marius as to why someone would make a book with no words in it. He told me it was a thing called a diary. A diary is thing that rich ladies use to write down their thoughts in. Marius told me to sell it since it was of no use to me. I realize he was implying I was unable to write.

I do not know what possessed me to keep this little thing. I could get several sous selling this thing. What good will telling a book about my thoughts do anyways? Yet here I am writing down my thoughts just like the rich ladies who look at me as though I am dirt.

Perhaps it is that pretty boy, Enjolras, who inspired me to tell my thoughts. He gives fancy speeches about freedom and equality. He tells me that I am just as valuable as the aristocrats. I suppose the joke is on him since I believe that the aristocrats contribute nothing and therefore are worth less than the urchins living on the streets.

Father is awake now. If he sees that I am wasting my time writing in a book rather than earning his liquor money he will hit me.

Au revoir pour l'instant

~Éponine


	2. Chapter 2

Little Book,

showed this little book to Marius today. He was very impressed with my writing. Enjolras over heard our conversation about my book. I thought h would be angry that I was wasting my time with something so trivial, but he also seemed impressed. He began to lecture me about how I should write my story so that one day when France is free people will read it and remember the struggles of the oppressed.

I will write the story of my life and all it's brutal truths, not for Enjolras, but for myself. One day I hope that someone will read this and see I am not some animal to be thrown out on the streets but a person who has fears and feels the pains of starvation and poverty.

So to begin with my story I will give you a peek into my life at home. Our name is Thénardier but we use the name Jondrette among other aliases to hide from debt collectors.

My father is a drunkard and a gambler. He is a cruel and impatient man whom I have come to despise. My father was not always so horrible. Our family used to own an inn. Back then we where quite wealthy and my father was a happy man. Eventually it was discovered that my parents had been stealing from guests and out inn fell to ruin.

We adopted the name Jondrette and moved to Paris. I had hoped that we would regain our fortunes and return to our affluent lifestyle but Father discovered to joys of liquor and gambling. What ever money is brought home now is thrown away to the massive collection of debts my father has obtained.

As the debts grow the less and less my daily earnings are worth. He now threatens to sell me to the men that come and go through our apartment.

Speak of the devil. I can see my father lurking in the alleyways. I best be off before he spots me.

À bientôt!

~Éponine


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